Priorities
by Eurothrashed
Summary: Jack sets up the romp around the fire and Elizabeth learns that happy endings aren’t just for idealistic, young Governor's daughters. JxE COMPLETE
1. Priorities 1 of 1

Title: Priorities 1/2

Author: Eurothrashed

Feedback: Yes, please. E-mail is in bio.

Disclaimer: My muse, who is an independent if minor deity, possessed them like whoa.

Rating: Pg13

Summary: Jack is setting up the romp around the fire...

* * *

"Will would _die_ for me," Elizabeth snapped, twisting around to glare at Jack. How _dare_ this drunken pirate question Will's devotion like it was some trivial thing!

"Well, that's all very fine an' good, love," Jack said with a dismissive wave of his half-empty rum bottle, "But dying for someone's easy - give up, give in, make a bloody mistake." The way he grinned at her when he said 'mistake' made Elizabeth's eyes narrow and lips thin; what _exactly_ was he insinuating? "Now, killing for someone, allowing someone to die, watching a friend scream an' writhe while he's tortured for somethin' he didn't do - now, _that's_ hard."

Elizabeth's eyes widened a fraction and Jack chuckled darkly to himself.

"If young Mister Turner proves that he's willing to do more than just _die_ for you, Miss Swann, then _I promise_ t'be properly impressed," he said, his free hand fluttering to rest on his heart, before falling limply to his side. "But until that fateful moment of self-discovery, please do ol' Jack a favour, an' keep your pretty speeches of true love and happily ever after to yourself. Savvy?"

Elizabeth nodded mutely, her mouth having gone as dry as the sand she was sitting on. She was sorely out of her element; none of her books went on as cynically as Jack did. Oh no, they spun happily ever afters where brave deeds and self-sacrifice triumphed over evil every single time. Was dying for someone actually as foolish and weak as Jack made it out to be? Did Will's devotion really mean so little?

Raising her eyes, she wasn't that surprised to find that Jack was staring at her without reservation. _Of course, he is staring at me,_ she thought with grim amusement, _whom else would he be staring at in this God forsaken place?_ Normally, the thought of someone having a lively conversation with the local shrubbery would have lifted her spirits considerably; if only it wasn't for the fact that she could actually see Jack doing it without being the least bit out of character.

"Trees are the most interesting people," he would say with a broad smile; then he would explain to the tree how he escaped this island once before with the reluctant aid of cannibalistic pigmies.

"_If_ what you say is true," Elizabeth slowly said as she climbed to her feet, stressing the 'if' with an almost religious desperation. "Then what does any of this _mean_?"

Jack cocked his head to side, his hands stilling for a moment. "This what, love?"

"This bloody adventure!" Elizabeth exclaimed angrily. Her hands were flurrying through the air in a harsher, sharper imitation of Jack's, though hers was more out of aggravation than anything else. "Will's trying to rescue me, our being stranded here! Does any of _this_- -" she swept her hand out toward the churning ocean behind her "- -mean _anything_?" Her hands dropped, and Elizabeth fought not to cry out in frustration. Any minute now Jack would start laughing, or just give her a disgusted look and go have that chat with the tree. She pushed her hair back and let a breath out between her teeth; suddenly feeling very, very tired. "Or am I just being stupid again?"

"Firstly, Miss Swann," Jack said getting to his feet with an amazing show of rum-laden effort, "I never meant t'say you were stupid." He smiled and pushed his bottle of rum into her hands, "Naive, certainly, but never stupid." He collapsed on the ground, grabbing a handful of her shift, pulling her down next to him. "Secondly, do you want Will's trying to rescue you, and our bein' stranded in the middle of bloody nowhere to mean somethin'?"

Elizabeth sniffed at the rum, weighing the pros and cons of drinking any more than she already had. "I don't believe in fate," she said, "But I do want this to mean more than a cursed bit of treasure I stole from a boy when I was old enough to know better."

"Ah," Jack grinned stroking the beads in his beard, "So, _that's_ how you got it. Quite the little pirate, weren't you?"

Elizabeth turned sharply, not quite sure she had just heard Jack correctly. By his expectant flinch and closed eyes, she knew that he probably thought she was, once again, angry with him. She laughed as he visibly relaxed, it taking him a few moments to realize that there weren't any outraged slaps of feminine righteousness heading his way. Elizabeth laughed, but not at Jack; no, she was laughing at herself, at how horrid she had been acting.

No wonder Jack was flinching, Elizabeth hadn't really given the poor man a reason to let down his guard. Oh yes, around Captain Jack Sparrow she was always screaming, demanding something, or just yelling at him.

Elizabeth smiled reassuringly at Jack, trying to undo some of the damage she had wrought. The edges of Jack's returned smile were pinched with apprehension and fell short of being a true smile. _Oh well,_ she thought, _at least it's a good first step forward._

Going over each of her little tantrums in her mind, Elizabeth found that she wasn't just tired of being the Governor's daughter. In truth, she was tired of it all - having suitors, wearing torture devices disguised as high fashion, being a proper English Lady. "You know," she said leaning back on her elbows, "When I was younger, hearing you say that, would have made me insanely happy."

"And now?" Jacked asked, opening another bottle.

"Now?" Elizabeth sighed and took a drink of rum, "Now, I really wish I was young enough to enjoy all this."

If she had been paying more attention, Elizabeth would have seen Jack's sudden interest in his bottle of rum, and would have been suitably worried at his lazy smile when he looked back towards her.

"You're only as old as you feel, darling."

(go to next chapter)


	2. Priorities 2 of 2

Title: Priorities 2/2

Author: Eurothrashed

Feedback: Yes, please.

Disclaimer: My muse, who is an independent if minor deity, possessed them like whoa.

Rating: Pg13

Summary: Happy endings aren't justfor idealistic, young Governor's daughters...

A/N Storyteller!Jack makes me warm and fuzzy.

* * *

_Pirate ships, pirate ships, child  
Merry and bold, Sparkling and rich, child  
Coming to dock, Right at your feet  
Tonight, Coming to dock tonight_

_

* * *

_

_Dally not with sirens, lest they drag you under._ Practical, adaptable wisdom; right up there with Greeks bearing gifts, knowledge being synonymous with power, and compassion curing more sins than condemnation. A siren tempted you with a fair face and a maddening song; it seemed that Captain Jack Sparrow did it with ample amounts of rum and frighteningly lucid speeches of the sea and freedom.

Jack Sparrow had to have something unnatural about him, some kind of magickal lure, his own siren song as it were. Because, here was Elizabeth Swann, head quite contently on Jack's shoulder, trying not to drift to sleep as he spun her a tale or two. It actually surprised Elizabeth to learn that, despite his fervor in condemning true love and happy endings earlier that day, Jack seemed fond of relating happily ever afters. Although, she had also learned that he wasn't above tossing in the random dashing pirate Captain, to give the hero a (reluctant) hand and (valiantly try) to woo the heroine. Those parts never failed to earn Jack a soft laugh from his drowsy audience, the characters reminding Elizabeth so much of Jack, Will, and herself not to be amused.

She idly traced the branching scar on the inside of his arm, her fingertips following the coarse, forking lines. For every intersection, she counted off a half-remembered sea shanty she had sung as a child, and for every raised line, she counted off a thrilling story she had overheard when her father thought she was asleep. Jack's storytelling was a soothing rasp; his words often beguiling in nature - sometimes flat and purposely (irritatingly) ignorant, other times laced with a teasing mockery as he quoted lines from Shakespeare and arbitrary bits of poetry.

Captain Jack Sparrow was everything that she had ever read him to be, and then nothing like she had expected. Yes, he was made up bawdy songs and stories of high sea adventure; but he was also a touch more _touched_ than the tales would have you believe.

_Mad_, she thought with something akin to genuine fondness, _more than just a bit mad._ But there was method to his madness, a type of crazy genius that made men leave port and join his crew even though they didn't now where they were going or what sorts of (mis)adventures they would partake in. When you joined Captain Jack Sparrow's crew, you didn't join for the hope of riches or veiled promises of being free men. Oh no, you joined because Captain Jack Sparrow would be at the helm, plotting your course, and that in itself was an honour. You could see it in their faces when someone would mention his name, or in the blind faith they showed when he would hatch one on his seemingly insane, suicide plans. Elizabeth herself, couldn't help but be swept up in the way Jack was able to get out of scrape after scrape; which is what had led to her yelling at him, demanding to know what he planned on doing to get them off of this bloody island.

Jack had fallen from grace in those few moments it took for him to tell her the truth behind the fantastic narrative.

Three days on a beach, drinking rum.

In those few moments, Jack's mythic status had been ripped away, and he had stood there, nothing but a fallible, human man telling her that he really didn't know how they were going to get out of this one.

Elizabeth won't lie, the Captain Jack Sparrow of her childhood's death had stung, and even now she could feel the ache. She had read every one of his stories; early on, hiding the papers and letters she had taken from her father under a loose floorboard near her balcony window. He was the only pirate she would admit to day dreaming about, wishing she could join his crew and share in his exploits. She still read his stories, always keen on the next one, simply because he was the best, and his stories were always the best - always the most exciting, always the most daring, and always, _always_ the most fun.

Jack enjoyed being a pirate Captain; Elizabeth couldn't really say she enjoyed being a Governor's daughter.

"Eliz-a-beth, dar-ling," Jack singsonged, "You're not listening."

Elizabeth flatted her palm again his arm, covering the stories she knew were hidden there. "Yes, I am."

"Oh, really?" That mocking lilt to his voice was back in full force; but now, all it did was make her lips quirk at the corners.

"Yes," she said.

Jack let out a derisive snort and a short laugh. "Then you're perfectly alright with the pirate Captain trading the hero for a ship an' runnin' off with the lad's bonny lass, thus ruining the happy ending?"

"Will she be happy?" Elizabeth quietly asked, sleep finally starting to claim her.

She could faintly feel Jack's fingertips smooth over the cloth bandaging her hand, just as faintly as she could feel his warm breath twisting through her hair. "Oh, aye," he said, "Very happy."

Elizabeth smiled a drowsy smile and closed her eyes. "Then it isn't really ruined, is it?

END


End file.
